Baby, Come Back
by Papergirl
Summary: It's not delivery, it's DiGiorno... except it's not DiGiorno, it's a baby, and it's on their doorstep. Are Shawn and Gus ready for their My Two Dads audition?
1. No Soliciting

The knock came in the middle of Short Circuit, and it was so quiet that Shawn wasn't even sure he heard it.

"Did you hear something?" Shawn asked, turning his head slightly towards the front door.

"Maybe," Gus conceded, his attention still focused on the TV screen.

"Aw, Gus, you didn't have to order pizzas. I've got DiGiorno in the freezer all ready to go."

Gus glanced over at him. "I didn't order pizzas, Shawn."

Begrudgingly, Shawn got up from his very comfortable position sprawled on the couch. "I ate all the DiGiorno already, so you really should have," Shawn chided. "And next time you have to get up to get the door."

"Yeah," Gus agreed distractedly, eyes on Ally Sheedy.

Shawn opened the front door, trying but failing to suppress a yawn. "Yes?" he asked, but there was no one there.

He stuck his head out, looking to the left and the right, but the boardwalk was deserted. He must not have heard a knock at all.

Shrugging, Shawn straightened up and started to close the door and by chance his eyes dropped down to the doorstep as he did.

He blinked a few times, gripping the doorknob tighter. Great. First he was hearing things, and now he'd already moved on to seeing them. Whatever hallucinogenic disease he had sure progressed quickly.

He reached a foot out - just on the off chance he hadn't completely lost his mind - and nudged the edge of the vision. And he met resistance.

So he wasn't crazy.

"Uh, Gus?" he called, his voice wavering weakly. "You might want to come over here."

"Shawn, just buy a damn box of cookies and get back here. This is the best part!"

"Well, I would, buddy, but I think this one is a little too young for the Girl Scouts."

Confused and sighing heavily, Gus paused the DVD and headed over to the front door. "What on earth are you-"

Gus stopped mid-sentence as he rounded the corner to find Shawn staring at a baby on their doorstep.

"What...who..." Gus stammered. "But... why... what do we do?"

Shawn swallowed, leaning over to lift the car seat and carry it into the warmth of the Psych office. "First, I'd say we start with a "No Soliciting" sign."


	2. For Want of Baby Collars

Shawn placed the sleeping child, seat and all, in front of the couch and backed away slowly as if from a bomb. He and Gus remained standing, staring at the sleeping baby and then glancing at each other before repeating the process.

From their best estimates, the baby was anywhere from two months to two years old. "Two years is where they start to talk, right?" Shawn whispered. Gus shrugged.

"I don't think she's two years old, Shawn."

"How do you know?" Shawn defended his estimate, gesturing to the child. "Maybe she's small for her age."

"Two year olds walk and talk, and she doesn't look capable of either."

Shawn nudged Gus's shoulder. "Wake her up. We'll test it. Ten bucks says she'll walk."

"I'm not waking her up. And it's a stupid bet."

"Fine," Shawn sulked. He took a few tentative steps toward the sleeping infant. "Twenty bucks."

"Shawn!"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "All right, all right. Do you know who she is? Who she belongs to?"

"To whom she belongs," Gus corrected quietly.

"Gus, this is hardly the time to be correcting my grammar!" Shawn chided with an exasperated shake of his head.

Gus took a step back and leaned on the desk. "If you said it correctly in the first place, I wouldn't have to correct you," he reminded him. "And I have no idea why someone would leave a baby on our doorstep."

Shawn sat down on the couch. "I wish they made baby collars," he mused, examining the seat. "They don't, right?"

Gus rolled his eyes. "No, Shawn, they don't make baby collars."

"That's too bad. Really would be useful in a situation like this." Shawn thought for a moment. "Note to self, start making baby collars."

Gus glared at him.

"What? There has to be a market." Off of Gus's continued glare, Shawn scooted on the couch, creeping closer to the baby. He motioned for Gus. "Gus, come here. Come hold her. I'm going to check for a note."

"Why can't I check for the note and you hold her?"

"Just get over here."

Gus grunted but moved closer to the couch, squatting down to unbuckle the straps holding in the sleeping baby. "What do I do if she wakes up?"

"I don't know."

"That's helpful," Gus gingerly lifted the baby up out of the seat. He held her awkwardly at arm's length, afraid that too much movement would agitate her into consciousness.

Shawn sifted through the seat, hoping for a note or a letter, or better yet Peter Funt.

Unfortunately, it was just the blanket and the car seat.

"Nothing?" Gus asked, turning so he could see Shawn around the baby.

"Nothing," Shawn confirmed.

Gus's eyes grew wide. "Uh oh," he said quietly. His focus was on the infant whose blue eyes were now open. "She's awake."

Shawn leaped to his feet. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Gus defended in a screech. The baby was staring at him, and Gus smiled nervously. "Hey there, baby."

"Dude, are you hitting on her?" Shawn shook his head in disbelief. "Does your creepiness know no bounds? She's a baby, Gus. Come on."

Although he hadn't been hitting on her, Gus nevertheless looked properly chastised.

"Just put her back to sleep so we have time to think."

"And how do you suggest we do that?"

"I don't know. Read her something boring? Where's your pharmaceutical reference book?"

Gus shrugged off the slight. "She wouldn't understand what I'd be saying."

"When you read that, I don't understand what you're saying. That's why it's boring, and a better sleep aid than NyQuil."

Gus didn't appear to have heard him, though. His eyes were locked in a staring match with the baby's. He felt a sudden sense of panic overwhelm him as he remembered you're not supposed to stare directly in their eyes... or was that wild animals?

"Go find your book, and she'll be asleep in no time," Shawn declared, moving in to take the baby from Gus. As soon as Shawn touched her, she started screaming. Loud, deafening wails emanated from her tiny lungs. Shawn panicked, looking to Gus for help. Gus, however, was too busy covering his ears to lend assistance.

"GUS!" Shawn shouted over the baby's cries. "HOW DO I TURN THIS OFF?"

Gus stared helplessly. "I DON'T KNOW, SHAWN! BABIES DON'T HAVE AN OFF SWITCH!"

"GET YOUR BOOK! WE NEED TO READ TO HER!"

"I LEFT IT AT THE OFFICE!"

"THEN HERE, HOLD HER. I THINK I KNOW WHAT MIGHT WORK!"

Shawn pawned the screaming child off on Gus, and instantly she stopped bawling. "What the...?"

The girl smiled at Gus. Gus, in turn, smiled at Shawn. "Wow, that did work," Gus smirked. He made a funny face at the baby, and she laughed.

Shawn scowled. "That wasn't what I was planning."

"You hate him, don't you?" Gus cooed to the baby. "You know, he's my best friend, but sometimes I hate him, too."

"Gus, I'm standing right here."

But Gus was lost in baby land, giving her a tour of the office in his falsetto baby voice.

Shawn scowled a little harder. Why was Gus bonding with her? He was the one who found the kid, after all.

Wait, what was he saying?

Gus was distracting her, and it gave him time - and relative quiet - to think. It took only a few moments for Shawn to remember his original plan. He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Congratulations, Dad. You're a grandpa!"


	3. Motive, Means, and Paternity

Henry, having mostly recovered from his near heart attack, knocked loudly on the door of the Psych office. When the door remained closed, Henry knocked louder. "SHAWN!"

Shawn flung open the door, panting. "Shh, Dad. We just got her to sleep!"

"We?" Gus asked, joining them by the door. "I believe it was all me, seeing as how she hates your guts."

"She doesn't hate my guts," Shawn explained as Henry walked inside. "She just-"

"So it's true?" Henry interrupted upon seeing the sleeping infant by the couch.

"Of course it's true. Why would I make something like this up?" Shawn whispered incredulously.

"For attention?" Gus answered helpfully.

Henry nodded in agreement, then slowed his approach to the baby. "Who is she?"

"Well, we checked for her driver's license, but she must have forgotten her purse at home."

Henry turned to leave.

"Dad, wait."

"Do you want my help or not?"

Shawn nodded, then mimed zipping his lips.

"Okay, then. You're going to do exactly what I say."

Gus chuckled, amused. "When has that ever happened?"

Henry glared at Gus, who wilted. "There's always a first time for everything," Gus mumbled.

"Yes, there is," Henry said. "And first, we're going to call the cops."

Shawn rolled his eyes and plopped onto the couch. "Dad, give me some credit. I already called the cops." Upon Henry's dubious look, Shawn continued. "Well, a cop. Okay, a retired cop, but a cop nonetheless."

Henry sighed and took a seat in the chair opposite the baby. He studied her as if examining crime scene photos for the first time. She looked like a Gerber baby, but short of the fact that she had blond curls, was about eight or nine months old, and asleep, he couldn't tell much about her.

"Why would someone leave this baby on your doorstep?"

"Probably because the sushi place two doors down closes at nine."

"Don't be ridiculous, Shawn."

"I'm not being ridiculous. It's the truth. I was surprised, too. I've tried to order there at 9:30 and they won't do it. They said the kitchen's closed. It's sushi! It's not like you have to clean out the oven."

"Shawn, can you please focus? Why this baby? Why your doorstep? The firehouse is just a few blocks away. There's a hospital nearby. Hell, there's a pizza place in that strip mall on Orchard that I'm sure is more qualified to care for a child than you two are. Why would someone bring a baby here of all places?"

"They must know us," Gus said quietly. "It must be related to some case that we've worked."

"But we haven't worked a case with a baby," Shawn mused. "I mean, there was that daycare case, but that was Chief Vick's baby, and she's like in kindergarten now, isn't she?"

Gus rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Shawn, why would Chief Vick drop Iris off at our doorstep?"

"I don't know. Maybe... nah, you're right. It's probably not Iris." he paused, staring at the sleeping girl. "But this baby, her parents could be in trouble. Maybe they're caught up in something dangerous and wanted to keep their baby safe while also making sure that someone would start investigating."

Gus concurred. "So we should go through all our case files over the past year and see if there are any blond couples or blond pregnant ladies."

"Or we could be missing the most obvious thing." Henry cleared his throat. "Isn't it possible the kid is yours?"

Shawn laughed. "I don't think blond hair runs in Gus's family."

"Not Gus. You, Shawn."

Shawn laughed, though there was a hint of nervousness as he pointed to his hair. "No blond here. Not even highlights."

"Not now," Henry said quietly. "But you were blond when you were younger."

"Wait, what are you suggesting?" Shawn shook his head slowly, his mind trying to comprehend the possibility as it frantically did the math. No, there wasn't anyone. Unless... no.

"I don't know, Shawn, maybe your terrible prank on the phone earlier wasn't completely unfounded. Maybe your past has come back to-"

"No. No. Don't even joke about something like that."

Henry crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, if you're not going to take her to the cops, you could at least take her to the doctor. See if she's okay. And maybe get a paternity test."

Shawn sighed. He stood and walked over to the refrigerator, but by the time he opened the door he couldn't remember what he wanted. He stood in front of the door, barely noticing the cool air on his body. He couldn't be a father. No, it was impossible.

And yet...

He grabbed a Coke and closed the door. Then reopened the fridge, replaced the Coke, and took out a beer. He screwed off the lid and flicked the cap onto the counter in the vague direction of the garbage can. He took a gulp from the bottle.

"We'll take her to the doctor first thing tomorrow," Shawn decided, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hoped it was just the jalapeno nachos he'd eaten earlier. "And then we'll take her into the station. We'll never be able to figure out who she is on our own."

"Good," Henry grunted. "Looks like you have things under control, so I'll just be heading home."

"Wait," Gus put out a hand to stop Henry from standing. "We need to get some supplies. We don't have any food or diapers or formula. Can you watch her while we go shopping?"

Henry looked at the two fully-grown men and gauged the fear in their eyes. They were in over their heads, but this was their problem, not his. Then he glanced down at the girl. Who was he kidding? All three of them needed his help."I will watch her this one time."

"Yes!" Shawn handed his beer to Henry and followed Gus to the door. "We'll be back soon."

"Oh, Shawn, one more thing."

Shawn was in the foyer, but he turned around, poking his head back into the office. "Yeah, Dad?"

"I charge by the hour."

"So did you mean it?" Gus asked as they stood in front of the diaper selection in one of the many baby aisles at Target. Their red cart was already full of formula, baby food, a stroller, some bottles, and a few little girl outfits.

"Mean what?" Shawn asked. He rubbed the back of his neck in confusion as he tried to figure out what size diaper she needed. He held up size 1 but Gus shook his head.

"That we're going to the police tomorrow. That we can't solve this on our own."

"Pfft," Shawn grabbed another package of diapers. "Of course we're not going to the station. We can solve this by ourselves." He lowered his voice and leaned in towards Gus. "Whoever put that baby on our doorstep chose us for a reason. Maybe the cops can't be involved. And besides, we're always the ones who solve the case anyway."

Gus couldn't argue with that. "But we are going to the doctor?" he questioned, grabbing the package Shawn picked up. He examined the drawing of the diaper's super absorbency and the size of the baby in the picture. "I think these will work," he said, tossing them in the crowded cart.

"Yes. On the off, off, off chance that she, uh, that she, you know, is, uh, isn't well."

They walked down the aisle, and Gus decided to let Shawn off the hook for that one. It couldn't be easy finding out that you might be a father.

They were looking at blankets when Shawn sighed.

"What's up?" Gus asked.

"Nothing. I just... dude," Shawn stopped, turning to Gus. Gus hadn't seen Shawn look that earnest before. It scared him a little. "If she is my daughter, what will I do? She hates me."

"Shawn, I'm sure she doesn't actually hate you. It's no doubt been a traumatic day for her. You just need to give her time to adjust. And, you know," he added as they rounded the end of the aisle. "Keep in mind that she might not even be your daughter."

Gus stopped short, having just crashed his cart into another. He looked up to the owner of the cart and froze.

It was Juliet.


	4. If a trenchcoat cries at the pier

"Jules!" Shawn exclaimed, choking slightly as his face debated which color to turn. It split the difference and turned pink.

"Shawn. Gus. What are you-" Juliet paused, her eyes drifting down to the contents of their shopping cart. Gus instinctively started to pull the cart backwards.

"Oh, you know, just a little late-night impulse buying," Shawn said quickly, moving in front of their cart as Gus slid it into the aisle they'd just left.

Juliet's eyes narrowed. "I can see that."

The three stood in awkward silence until Gus couldn't take the tension anymore. "Did you hear about Play-Doh? It's not on sale. That's messed up."

Juliet nodded politely at Gus, her detective's gaze still trained on Shawn.

"What?" Shawn asked sweetly. He batted his eyelashes a little, and Juliet shook her head, unable to hide a brief smile before her face hardened.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me."

Shawn and Gus glanced at each other, the poster children of pure innocence. "I have no idea to what you're referring," Shawn said calmly.

"Proper grammar aside, don't think-" Juliet was interrupted by her phone chirping. "One sec," she told them, fishing the phone from her bag. "Don't think I'm going to drop this." She turned her attention to the phone. "O'Hara."

While Juliet listened intently to the caller, Shawn turned to Gus. Silently, he asked if Gus thought Juliet had overheard their conversation. Gus shook his head. "Of course not," he mouthed. "But she was right there!" Shawn hissed. The wordless debate lasted for a few seconds until Juliet finished the call.

"That was Lassiter. They just found a John Doe down at the pier," Juliet paused, slipping her phone back into her bag. "Come on, I'll give you a ride to the crime scene."

Shawn and Gus glanced at each other, then back towards their hidden cart.

"Uh, yeah, no, that's okay," Shawn decided. "We, uh, we'll just finish here and catch up with you later."

"Really?" Juliet narrowed her eyes. "You're choosing shopping over working a case?"

Shawn and Gus both shrugged in response.

"Come on, Jules. We're modern men. We consummate just like everyone else."

"Consume," Gus corrected.

"Gus, I believe it's pronounced 'consomme.' But, Jules, don't worry. We have plenty of time. It's not like the body's going to become, you know, undead."

"Yeah," Gus laughed, a little too hard. "Then we'd be dealing with zombies."

"And that's a whole different Shaun."

Juliet stared at them.

"I'll see you at the pier then," she said slowly, her eyes darting suspiciously between the two of them.

Shawn and Gus waved as Juliet backed up her mostly-empty cart and hurried towards the front of the store.

"Can you believe that?" Shawn asked.

"I know. I thought for sure she saw all of the baby stuff."

Shawn shook his head slowly. "I know. Who buys toothpaste in bulk?"

Gus turned around to retrieve their cart but stopped, then turned around to face Shawn. "Shawn, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Juliet's cart," He motioned in the direction she had just headed. "She had like five boxes of toothpaste in there. I never realized she was so obsessed with dental hygiene."

"Maybe there was a sale."

"Maybe you were a sale."

"That doesn't even make sense," Gus retorted, grabbing their cart and pushing it around the corner to the next aisle.

"It does if you know how I was spelling sale."

"Shawn, it doesn't matter how-"

"Shhh, Gus," Shawn interrupted, waving a hand in the air to silence him. His hand then pointed to a box on the shelf. "Can we get a baby bjorn?"

"Whatever happened to the one you bought last year?"

"I think I would remember buying a baby bjorn."

Gus crossed his arms over his chest as Shawn grabbed the box. "You bought it to hold watermelons during the county fair."

Shawn nodded as he relived the memory. "Oh yeah," he chuckled. "Good times." He threw the box into the cart.

"Shawn, what are you doing? That thing costs eighty bucks, and we already have one!"

"Yeah, but we need it. I threw out the other one." Shawn continued off of Gus's glare. "Don't look at me like that. It had watermelon juice all over it."

Gus sighed and glanced at his watch. The store closed in fifteen minutes, so there was still a chance they wouldn't reach his credit limit before they left.

"No. Absolutely not. No way. No."

"Geez, Dad, why don't you tell us how you really feel?"

Shawn and Gus stood facing Henry by the refrigerator. After five trips - each - Shawn and Gus had finally unloaded all of the baby purchases from the blueberry and were pleading with Henry to continue babysitting.

"Shawn, I'm not going to stay here all night watching her. You were the ones who wanted to wait until tomorrow to go to the police."

"Exactly. And we will take her to the police. Just as soon as you watch her for another hour or two so we can go see a body at the pier."

Henry crossed his arms. His face settled into a look that Shawn knew all too well. "Listen, kid, she's your responsibility tonight. I'm going home and going to bed."

Henry stormed off towards the front door, then paused by the desks. He turned around, glanced at the sleeping child, and hissed, "And you owe me fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks?" Gus repeated, incredulous. "We were only gone for an hour!"

"You're paying me tomorrow," Henry growled, turning to leave. "By noon!"

"He'd never make it in the babysitters' club," Shawn told Gus, shaking his head woefully. "Kristy woud kick him out in a heartbeat."

"Shawn, what are we going to do? We can't bring her to the crime scene. One of us will have to stay here with her."

"One, two, three, not it!" Shawn blurted. He touched his finger to his nose for good measure.

"I'm not staying here alone with her," Gus declared, leaning back against the counter.

Shawn surveyed the room. He eyed the baby, the mounds of plastic bags filled with merchandise, and then his eyes settled on the coat rack. "Don't worry, Gus. I have a plan."

The coroner was almost done with the preliminary exam by the time Gus strode and Shawn waddled under the pier. Lassiter was standing next to the body, flipping through his notebook, while Juliet was off in the distance, comparing notes with some uniforms.

"Spencer, Guster, go home. You're not-" Lassiter stopped, his mouth gaping slightly. "Spencer, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Lassie, that's such a personal question. My therapist and I have been working on that for years."

"Shawn, you don't have a therapist," Gus reminded him.

"Fine, I've been watching Dr. Phil reruns. I'm really working on accessing my feelings, and right now I'm accessing the feeling that you're being a meaniehead."

Lassiter pointed at Shawn, whose chest bulged beneath a large trench coat buttoned to the chin. "Why do you look like you've grown a tumor overnight?"

"First of all," Shawn said, attempting to move his head indignantly but failing due to the height of the restrictive collar. "It's not a tumor," he said in his best Schwarzenegger. "Secondly, I'm as svelte as ever, but yes, I've gained a little weight recently, so I'll thank you not to mention it."

"He's very sensitive," Gus added.

"I'm not sensitive," Shawn snapped.

Gus made a face at Lassiter. "See?"

"Spencer, that's enough. What the hell's going on?"

Shawn pointed to the body on the ground. "There's a dead body afoot. Wait, is that right? Can a whole body be a foot? There's a dead body abody doesn't really make sense, though, does it?"

Lassiter ignored him and motioned to the coroner. "Have you been able to determine a TOD?"

"My initial findings indicate sometime around 2 to 3 days ago. I'll know more when I get the body down to the office and run some tests."

Shawn glanced at the body: waterlogged, male, Caucasian, with what looked like used to be a killer head of hair. He saw no sign of a struggle, he saw a wedding ring and a gaudy class ring. He saw a tan line where the thick strap of a watch used to be. Squinting, he saw a small puncture wound, probably from a needle, on his arm. A scenario played out in his head, clear as the psychic visions he pretended to see.

Shawn's hand shot up to his temple. "I'm sensing that this was no drowning accident. This man was drugged and thrown into the water."

Lassiter looked at the coroner, who shrugged. "This is my first week, so..." he trailed off apologetically. "I'll know more after toxicology."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Rookies," he muttered.

Juliet approached, her notebook open. "We have a witness. Saw two men carrying a limp body to the edge of the pier. The witness is sitting down with a sketch artist right n- what on earth is wrong with you, Shawn?"

All eyes turned to Shawn, who was staring down his collar at his chest. His jacket twitched. "Nothing."

Juliet took a step closer, squinting. "Is your jacket... moving?"

"No," Shawn said nervously, stepping backwards. "It's the breeze. That sweet, sweet ocean breeze. Right, Gus?"

"Right," Gus confirmed. "It's particularly breezy tonight."

Lassiter and Juliet were not convinced. They took a few steps towards Shawn. Lassiter's hand hovered above his gun. Shawn took two steps backwards, lost his footing, and fell on his butt. As he fell, he instinctively wrapped his arms around his chest instead of bracing himself for impact. As a result, he hit the ground hard, and although the wind was knocked out of him a small cry emanated from his chest.

And then the cry grew louder.


End file.
